


cos i may be bad (but i'm perfectly good at it)

by nirav



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10433592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirav/pseuds/nirav
Summary: tumblr prompt: Do you think Lucy's ever given Alex a lap dance?[aka, winn causes problems, lucy does a little dance, and alex may or may not get arrested]





	

**Author's Note:**

> [smallandsundry](https://www.smallandsundry.tumblr.com) basically came up with the entire plot for this and instructed that all readers listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KdS6HFQ_LUc&oref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DKdS6HFQ_LUc&has_verified=1) while reading.

Alex hasn't had a run-in with the police-- one that doesn't involve her flashing a badge and a smidge of aggressive posturing about jurisdiction to get her way, at least-- since graduate school.  Not that she ever had that many of them to begin with, her one brush with the law and three hours in a county jail cell an exception to the general rules.  That's not to say that she doesn't tend to look at most laws as flexible at best, but just to say that she's generally been capable enough as skirting around them without getting caught.

Until now.

It's two in the morning and she's handcuffed in the back of a police car with blood on her shirt and an overly aggressive behemoth of a NCPD officer on the phone with his precinct, reading off the ID number on her FBI badge to confirm that she’s a real agent.

It's all Winn's fault.

* * *

It starts in M'Gann's bar.  Kara and James are off on a date, being adorable and romantic, and Lucy and Winn both had dragged Alex out of the office to get a beer.  

"It's Friday!" Winn says, bouncing on the balls of his feet and gesturing wildly towards the towering windows that still have sunlight pouring through them.  "It's the weekend and there are no alien disasters lurking, and the weather is perfect, so can you please just--"

"Give it up,  Schott," Lucy says, elbowing him out of the way and grabbing Alex by the shoulders.  She yanks and Alex's body follows, a habit of following Lucy's hands borne of the last year of sharing a bed.  She grumbles but doesn't resist as Lucy spins her towards the door and marches her out of the office.  There are battles worth fighting with Lucy, and this isn't one of them.

“How do you  _ do _ that?” Winn mumbles.  His shoes scuff on the floor and echo as he hurries after them.  

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Lucy says with a wink.

They wind up at M’Gann’s bar, commandeering the pool table and taking turns buying drinks.  It’s a good night, a quiet night, playing pool with her girlfriend and one of her best friends, getting a little too drunk and not caring for once because she’s got a whole weekend ahead of her.  M’Gann has ventured out from behind the bar a few times to shoot a game with them, and she’s drunk enough to settle easily into a chair and pull Lucy down to sit in her lap so they can watch M’Gann beat Winn at an eight rack.

“You guys are the cutest,” Winn says with a grin, flopping down at the table across from them after his loss to M’Gann.  He drops his chin into his hand, sloppy and smiley, and stares at how Alex’s chin is propped on Lucy’s shoulders and Lucy’s hand is on her leg.

“Are not,” Lucy says mildly.  Alex nods along with her, squinting at Winn.  

“Are so,” he says. “Totally the cutest.”  He grins, even wider and stupider,  and throws back the rest of his beer.  The jukebox shifts to the next song as he rambles on about true love until he trails off, head tilting and hand tapping in time to the music.  

“Did I ever tell you about the time I took Mon-El to a strip club?” he says suddenly.  “They played this song.  He got a lap dance.  For free.  Because he’s Mon-El.”

“Oh my God,” Alex mumbles.  “Please shut up.”

“Lucy,” Winn says, too loud, enough that they both glare at him.  “Have you ever given Alex a lapdance?”

“What?” Alex half-shouts.  “What the--”

“Not your business, nerd,” Lucy says, a hand soft on Alex’s leg to quiet her.  

“Okay, but seriously--”

“Winn.”  Alex glares at him.  She can probably knock him out and dump him back at the DEO without anyone knowing about it, even this drunk.

“You should totally give her a lap dance,” Winn says, pointing sloppily at Lucy triumphantly and slapping the table.

“Here?” Lucy glances around the bar.  “Not likely.”

“But there’s Rihanna on the jukebox, and we all know you can dance, and you guys have been making the googly-in-love eyes all night and I totally saw you grabbing her ass earlier.”

“And yet,” Lucy says mildly.  “Still not happening.”

“But--”

“Winn!” Alex snaps.  “Seriously.  Stop it.  She would never--” 

Lucy cuts her off with an exasperated “ _ Fine _ .”  She hops off of Alex’s lap before Alex can say anything else.

Alex stares up at her, mouth hanging open as Lucy manhandles Alex’s chair around to give herself room.  “Work with me here, Danvers, don’t be dead weight,” Lucy grumbles, yanking at her chair.  She hooks her foot around the backpack Alex had brought with her from the office, the one she always carries to and from work at this point, with her badge and a fingerprint-locked sidearm for the too-many times she’s wound up running across someone who needs to be arrested and paperwork for when she’s bored and--

“Aha.”  Lucy yanks the handcuffs out of one of the pockets.  Alex gapes at her, too drunk and too confused to react before her hands are cuffed behind the chair.

“Wait, what are you--”

“Rising to the challenge,” Lucy says, hands on Alex’s shoulders as she leans down to kiss her briefly.  “Schott, give me some money, I need a different song.”

Winn scrambles to get her some money, flinging a collection of bills across the table at her.  She slaps the back of his head and takes all of his money, muttering “ _ You don’t get to enjoy this, don’t be a perv. _ ”

She spins away from the table, sauntering over towards the jukebox.

“And don’t try and get out of this!” She calls over her shoulder to Alex.  Alex stares after her, shaking her head to free it from the whiskey that’s clearly strong enough to make her hallucinate, because surely there’s no way that Lucy just handcuffed her to a chair in M’Gann’s bar to give her a lapdance.

She glances anxiously around the bar, which is relatively empty; M’Gann catches her eye from behind the bar and smiles, shakes her head, holds her hands up.  

“I’m going to kill you,” Alex mutters at Winn, who’s gaping just as much as she is at Lucy, who’s over by the jukebox with one hip popped out, being far too attractive and overall problematic for Alex to handle.

The music starts and Lucy makes her way back over and Alex flushes bright red before Lucy is even close to her.  There’s no way this is about to happen.

Except it is.  It’s never been a secret that Lucy can dance, but Alex didn’t know she could do  _ this _ , that her hips could move like  _ this,  _ that she could handcuff Alex to a chair and not touch her but still set Alex’s skin on fire in a dive bar the same way she’s always done in the privacy of their bedroom, that she ever  _ would _ .

Alex stares, her chest tight and breath coming sharp and shallow, fists clenching and wrists straining against the handcuffs, because Lucy is  _ right there _ , eyes dark and mouth smirking and hips always moving, and Alex can’t touch her.  

Lucy leans closer, brushing past Alex’s cheek to whisper “ _ How you doing over here, Agent Danvers?” _ , lips brushing against Alex’s ear and making her entire body shudder hard enough to shake the chair.  Lucy laughs, low and quiet and confident, and kisses Alex too briefly, short and heated and tinged with whiskey and accented by fingernails scraping along Alex’s jaw, before pulling back to keep dancing.  

Alex strains after her, Winn and M’Gann and the rest of the bar completely forgotten because Lucy, her Lucy, Lucy who whined that morning until brought her coffee in bed, Lucy who slept in one of Alex’s t-shirts from high school and dinosaur underwear,  is dancing with her back to Alex and all she can see is the skin of her shoulders and back, warm and soft and  _ right there _ exposed by her tank top under the dim bar lights, and all she wants to do is touch and feel the familiar lines of muscle under her hands and--

“Oh-- oh my God, Alex, you’re bleeding!” Winn shrieks, breaking the spell with a pitch that probably even dogs can’t hear.  It’s enough to stop Lucy, hands still in her own hair as she whips around to see Alex, who now has a nosebleed.  

Winn knocks over his empty beer glass scrambling to get around the table with a handful of napkins crushed into his hands.  Lucy drops her hands, blinking slowly at Alex and the fact that Alex got a nosebleed from watching her dance.

“This is new,” she says after a moment.  She picks up Alex’s whiskey and finishes it in one go, licking her lips and winking at Alex, who’s glaring at her past Winn’s shoulder and his clumsy attempts to mop up the blood on her face.  It’s dripped down the side of her neck and onto her shirt and Winn is too drunk to be useful and Lucy is just standing there, with that smirk she always has when she knows she’s gotten Alex too turned on to think straight.

“Stop it,” Alex mutters, half at Lucy and half at Winn.  “Just-- take the cuffs off, will you?”  She leans back as far as she can, jerking her head away from Winn, leaning and leaning and leaning until suddenly the chair tips and she topples backwards onto the floor.

Alex groans, her head aching from cracking on the floor and her hands still cuffed behind her back and the chair digging into her back.  Lucy appears at her side, gentle hands cradling the back of her head and eyebrows creased.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.  Alex grunts, teeth grinding together, because Lucy is carefully feeling along the back of her head for a concussion but all Alex can think about is getting out of the cuffs and finishing what Lucy’s lapdance started.  

“I’m fine,” she grunts out.  “Help me stand up, will you?”

Winn has given up on being helpful and is just standing there, hands at his side and mouth gaping at Alex, whose hands are cuffed behind her back, blood on her face and her shirt, taking slow deep breaths and glaring across the bar at Winn as Lucy retrieves a damp towel from M’Gann and carefully wipes the worst of the blood away.

“You uh--missed a--” Winn points fruitlessly, gesturing at Alex’s face, and Alex stomps forward and kicks his legs out from under him.  

“Alex,” Lucy says with a sigh as Winn lands on the floor with a  _ whoomp _ and Alex presses one foot down onto his chest.  Winn squeals and Alex glares and Lucy mumbles something about needing another drink.

The door to the bar opens and suddenly everyone freezes, because that’s a cop.  He stops mid-step, one hand still on the door, and stares at the scene in front of him for a solid three seconds-- Lucy leaning over the bar to help herself to a bottle of whiskey, M’Gann nowhere to be seen, Winn on the floor, Alex handcuffed with her foot poised to stomp on Winn’s chest if she so chose-- before fumbling for his gun and yelling something about nobody moving.

M’Gann pushes back in from the back just as the cop is frogwalking Alex out of the bar, yelling at Lucy and Winn to shut up about Alex being an FBI agent, blinks, and turns around and walks right back out back.  

 

* * *

It’s nearly five by the time Alex and Lucy make it home.  Alex’s wrists are red from the nearly three hours she spent in the cuffs, because-- unsurprisingly-- it took the NCPD that long to figure out that they didn’t have a reason to hold her.  She still has blood all over her shirt, but she flops down onto the bed anyways.

“If you get blood all over the bed, I’m not doing the laundry,” Lucy says.  She lays down next to Alex with a yawn and kicks at her shoes until they flop down to the floor.  Alex wiggles out of her shirt anyways, tossing it somewhere towards the laundry. 

“Yes you are,” Alex says, eyes closed.  “Because you just had to prove something to Winn and that’s what got us into this mess.”

“Got  _ you _ into this mess.”  Lucy rolls over and curls an arm over Alex’s stomach.  “I’m not the one who almost got arrested for assault and battery.”

“I hate you,” Alex mumbles through a yawn.  She grumbles and turns on her side, dragging Lucy’s arm with her and shuffling back until Lucy is pressed against her back.  “Go to sleep, butthead.”

“I love you, too,” Lucy says, pressing a kiss between her shoulderblades.  “And we are totally never forgetting that I got you so turned on you had a nosebleed.”

  
  



End file.
